To touch your soul, with torch in hand, the light from my torch cannot be seen.
I light my torch upon entering the hiding place of your soul. I see the light; I feel its warmth blow onto me as the cold dank winds blow up through the entry way I plan to enter. My torch is strong, it burns bright, it lights the hallway I wait in, it lights this hallway from end to end, and yet I cannot see past the framework of the door in front of me. Inside the door I cannot see the floor, I cannot see the walls, there is no echo, there seems to be no ceiling, because I cannot sense it with my eyes.
As I step into this place, the air seems to flow around me, almost liquid as it pours over me and around me. I have stepped into this place, one step past the door’s threshold. I can see the door behind me, I can see the torch in my hand, but I cannot see anything else, it is as if there is nothing here. There is not a floor, I bend down to touch it with my fingers and they push through air as if I waved my hand above my head, and my feet are steadfast and firmly in place. I take another step; the light from the door cannot reach this far into this place. I feel coldness from this place, it reaches inside of me, the cold reached at me, it pulls at me, it hurts and I feel nothing from this place, it has nothing inside of it. I look again to my torch, because my torch is giving off no light. I don’t see a flame, I don’t feel its warmth, so I pull the torch close to me and as it gets close to my face I can feel small pins on my forehead, and so I pull the torch from my face and throw it ahead of me, I never hear it fall to this plane on which I stand.
I take one more step, and as I know my feet are planted firmly as they have been for the last two steps, I have this feeling of drowning and falling. My stomach wrenches, my brain starts to pound, my lungs fill with fire, my eyes start to burn, my skin feels as if a million tiny bugs were crawling on me, and as each one of them takes a step it feels as if they are ripping a piece of my flesh away. I feel as if my clothing is burned off, as if there is nothing between my body, my soul, my heart, my brain, and this evil that dwells here in this house of your soul. I feel a darkness reach inside of me; I feel its fingers play with my own heart, and squeeze my lungs. This pain is unlike any pain I have felt before. It rips at me and it tears me apart, I can take it no longer, there is nothing in this place for me. I can take no more steps further. I must leave this hell that resides inside of me. I take a step back, the pain is fleeting, but still prevalent, the cold takes over my senses again, my fear fills my body as the pain leaves, I take another step back, I can feel the light of the doorway, I step back through, the pain is gone from my body but my mind will never forget, all the pain except the burn on my face, the sign of the trickery of the evil that lives in your heart. I turn around and run away, I leave that place that still haunts me. I run as fast as I can, I never want to return to that place. I never want to see anything like that again. I don’t want to know of this horror, this evil; I want nothing to do with your heart, your soul. They no longer exist, they are empty, they are replaced with the burning torches of those who come to help, but these torches burn with no fire, and they give off no light, they just simply are there heartless, lifeless, and soulless; just like you.
